I work for a charity and in our Guardian-reading, idealistic, casual-clothing mode of working it is not uncommon for men to come into work in shorts in the summer months. But is this ever a good idea? And if yes, what type would you recommend? Simon, by email

It is times like this that one longs for the sonorous boom of Simon Callow. One can almost hear Callow esquire now. "My dear boy!" he would trumpet, seizing his namesake around his almost certainly skinny shoulders. "Pull yourself together! Of course shorts are never allowed! What are you, a German tourist? Ha ha! Just ribbing you, darling. Now come, come, have I mentioned my book on Orson Welles, perchance?"

And there we must draw a curtain on Simon and his words about shorts. But before we return to the matter at hand, I must take you to task for using the Guardian's name in vain. Lentils we may favour, but men's shorts? A very different bag of potatoes. Now, we at the Guardian are, as you rightly note, idealistic and casual, and not everyone falls into line: indeed, my trusted colleague Imogen Fox wrote a feature just six days ago pondering the benefits of shorts. But I must stand and say that, on a personal level, I feel that this is where women beat men and this has not a damn thing to do with fashion. I don't wish to break anyone's hearts here, but women's legs are simply far better suited to display than men's.

Oh calm down, calm down: look, you men are blessed and not just because you will never have to, in the immortal words of Kirstie Alley in the even more immortal Look Who's Talking, squeeze something the size of a pineapple through an opening the size of a lemon and see how hot you look.

You also get much better toys to play with - I mean, PlayStation versus My Little Pony? What's so fun about a pink horse with stars tattooed on its backside? Anyway, the point is, stop griping and accept that, in this case, you are going to have to stick with nice, vaguely loose (but not widelegged, unless you want to look like an extra in the Gene Kelly musical On The Town) and definitely not three-quarter-length trousers, which are the New Labour of compromises in being meaningless, embarrassing and, ultimately, disappointing.

What are your feelings on boots with bare legs? Sally Jamieson, London

This rather depends on your breadth of film references. If your reading is of the Sight and Sound variety, you're probably thinking of some Fellini movie. If your reading is a bit Closer to home, there's only one word that comes to mind: Vivian. Yes, we're talkin' Pretty Woman, the film used by schools around the world for careers day events. Now, normally, this page tends to give a wide berth to any movie involving Richard "stuck in reverse" Gere, but such is the beauteous intelligence of this film that exceptions have to be made. But think carefully about adopting Vivian's look: it's a dangerous career she advocates, you know, full of potential tears, pain and even shame. I mean, do you really want to look like you go to polo matches with a man whose middle name is Tiffany? And that's today's hard-hitting fact for you.

Trends are supposed to change every season, I get that. But skimpy miniskirts seem to be "in" every summer. Why? Tara Williams, Bath

Letters of such perceptive quality, how rare they are in these days of ours. And when the syntax is inverted in the opening sentence, such a poetic way of grabbing one's attention and, in its wake, forcibly dragging it.

Now, Tara, I think you are confusing "trends" with "taste." "Trends" are those bits of frippery that get us to spend yet more money every season - I'm sorry, I mean, totally capture the spirit of our times in a thrillingly creative manner. To Marks & Spencer, this means adding a token bit of tassel; to Topshop, this means entirely redesigning the store - depends on your degree of bothered-ness, really. But "taste" - which by no means assumes the prefix "good" - refers to things that simply will never, ever go away, despite their obvious wrong-ness. Think cap sleeves; think Tim Jeffries.

But then, maybe we can see them as bringing comfort into our modern-day, rootless lives. Or perhaps we can, as seems to be our wont this week, bring in a cinematic reference. Or perhaps [lower voice, not to Simon Callow profundo, but more like a menacing voiceover] such repetitions and consistencies contain a secret code. For example, what are we to make of the way Tom Cruise always has to run in every single one of his films, his hands chopping the air in a mad, vaguely disturbing manner that can only contain some sort of secret masonic sign? Or that daft facial expression (raised eyebrows, puffed out lips) Tom Selleck pulls throughout his oeuvre, from the glories of Three Men and a Baby to the tragedy of Friends? Or the little furrow of the forehead as favoured by Gwyneth? Or Sally Fields's sobbing? Coded messages, one and all, because clearly such tics, like the constant churning out of miniskirts, is not due to lack of talent or imagination respectively. That's just crazy talk.